


All She Ever Did Was Bite Back

by robotmakingtea



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy isn't a great sister, Canonical Child Abuse, F/F, Female!Billy, Gratuitous Swearing, Hurt/Comfort, Ill advised drinking habits, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, female!Steve, pre-season 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-11-15 22:33:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18082181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotmakingtea/pseuds/robotmakingtea
Summary: Five weeks away from the first game of the season, Billy Hargrove’s school status falls from queen bee to violent basket-case, and it won’t stop there.Before the month is out, she will have successfully burned her high school reputation to the ground.And Stephanie “Stevie” Harrington is going to help her do it.





	1. People Don't Want to Hit Me

**Author's Note:**

> I was curious to see what a female Billy’s experience/perspective would be compared to male Billy. I tried to make her sympathetic without becoming nice but feedback would be appreciated! 
> 
> I felt that Nick Hargrove’s treatment of his daughter would be different because it would be less acceptable for him to openly terrorise her, especially with Max in the house – but in terms of abuse and trauma this story is pretty much canonical, so be warned! 
> 
> This takes place before the events of season 2 are fully underway, so no punch up between Billy and Steve yet! Hope you find this interesting. I will be trying to update every two weeks.
> 
> Also I'm a Brit so please let me know if there are any glaring irregularities in terms of setting or time!

*

 

Billy parks her Camaro a few blocks from home so the engine won’t give her away.

In California, the nights were warm, and alive with the sound of beetles. Here, there is only a biting chill and a silence that sets Billy’s teeth on edge.

Her hands are shaking where they grip the steering wheel. She rests her forehead on the smooth leather for a moment, grinding her teeth in her skull, breathing in a lungful of alcohol and cigarette smoke.

Then she forces herself to get out of the car.

Outside, Billy feels exposed, a sensation that worsens when she comes into view of the dark house. She barely breathes as she creeps around the side and jumps the fence, crawling through her bedroom window. 

The room is exactly as she left it: piles of dirty clothes, two ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts, the sheets rumpled.

Billy shuts the window carefully and wrenches her curtains shut, alone at last. With no one to see her, she rips off her too-tight clothes and scrambles desperately into bed, breathing hard, pulling the covers so tight around her that she might suffocate herself.

Smashing her face into the pillow, she bites back the urge to scream and punches the fabric, making the bedsprings creak. She curls in on herself, shuddering and gasping for breath - wills herself to shut the fuck up.

Damnit she wants to break something. So. Fucking. Bad.

Billy doesn’t sleep.

 

*

 

The sun rises on the opposite side of the house to Billy’s room, so it takes a while after dawn before she drags her gaze from the far wall and notices, in the daylight, the state of her hands.

Her right hand is swollen and sore, the knuckles split. There is blood under her nails.

When Billy shifts, her face throbs and her neck twinges unpleasantly. Whiplash. Blood has smeared her sheets and her pillow. She has to get up, get some ice, soak the sheets in cold water, put some makeup on, get back to her room before anyone else wakes up.

The thought makes her bury herself back in her blanket cocoon.

Finally, she emerges and pulls on a t-shirt, shivering through her whole body, unsure whether from the cold or a continuation of the jitters that she’s been feeling all night.

She makes it to the bathroom with her sheets without anyone noticing, and leaves them to soak in the tub while she washes her face and hair in the sink.

She tries to keep her eyes focused on the minute details of the cut on her lip, the bruise on her cheek – tries not to meet her own gaze or take in her face in its entirety.

When a deep voice murmurs from beyond the bathroom wall, Billy beats a hasty retreat before her dad makes it out of his room.

The house is still fucking freezing, and Billy dumps the wet sheets in the corner of her room, mercifully leached of blood, and pulls a sweater from the piles of clothes strewn about her floor. 

Suddenly overcome by a wave of numbness, Billy pulls the sweater on and forces herself to make the bed with shaking fingers before she crawls back into it and pulls the covers over her head.

 

*

 

Again, she doesn’t sleep, but also doesn’t stir – until her dad wrenches open her door and makes her flinch bodily.

She hears his gruff orders through the protection of her blankets, and her whole body goes rigid when she feels him grab her shoulder through them. For a long moment, she holds her breathe. Until high-school, her dad wouldn’t have thought twice about ripping off her covers and dragging her out of bed by force.

Not anymore. Today he gives her shoulder a harsh shove instead. “… Going out. Look after Max. Lazy little shit. Out fucking partying with…” Billy’s ears start ringing, and she realizes she’s tensed so hard that she’s giving herself a headache.

By the time she forces herself to breathe again her dad has left and slammed the door behind him, cursing. Nothing too foul. Susan is probably in the kitchen, within earshot. Billy doesn’t care.

Still, it takes a long time after she hears her dad and Susan drive off for the tension to release.

 

*

 

Billy spends most of that Saturday working up to sleep. She leaves the bed long enough to put some music on, grab her cigarettes from her discarded jeans, and open the window, then gets back under the covers.

She dozes off around lunchtime, and wakes up warm, the sun finally far enough over the horizon to shine into her room.

Billy sighs, a fully-body shudder running through her, and stretches carefully. Finally, her eyes don’t feel quite so sore. 

It’s then that she notices that she’s actually starving.

There’s only Max in the house, off doing something nerdy in her room, probably talking into her walkie-talkie, so Billy doesn’t bother to pull on her jeans.

She stands for a moment in front of her door, biting her lip, before she finally opens it.

The coast is clear until Billy is half-way through assembling a sandwich, knife poised to cut it in half. Then Max appears in the hall. Billy tenses at the sound of her huff.

“Billy will you drop me down to the arcade in an hour?” Billy knows the monumental effort it takes Max to ask her for anything. Today, though, the thought of going outside is…

“Get your fucking babysitter to do it for you.” Billy tries not to shudder, clutches at the knife.

“It takes ten fucking minutes Billy. It’ll take Stevie longer just to get-.” _Shit._ Billy senses Max move, hears the moment when she sees the bruise on her cheek, the way the kid freezes.

A wave of violence washes through Billy, and with it a nausea so strong she has to clutch the counter with her other hand. 

She wants to punch her twelve year old step-sister in the face. She’s still holding the knife. She has enough sense to be disgusted with herself.

Mercifully, Max backs off good and quick when she sees Billy has a reason to be pissed. That doesn’t stop her slamming her bedroom door in frustration hard enough to make Billy’s teeth hurt. But the large part of Billy that isn’t vibrating with rage kind of understands that impulse.

Billy slumps against the counter for a moment before grabbing her sandwich and retreating back to her room.

When she hears another car pull up outside she gets back into bed. It’s only Stevie Harrington – who seems to have taken it upon herself to care for Hawkins’ entire population of twelve year olds.

She leaves Max’s dinner on the counter. This weekend, with her dad and Susan celebrating their anniversary with a two day getaway, was meant to be one long party. Billy was meant to be out every night.

Instead, she spends it mostly in bed.

 

*

 

Sunday goes by in a blur, and the only time Billy is forced to interact with Max is when she leaves out a bowl of instant mac and cheese for the kid and calls through her bedroom door: “If they ask, I made you the best fucking dinner you’ve ever eaten in your life, shortcake.”

The image of Max giving her the middle finger on her way to her room almost makes Billy smile.

Her dad and Susan come home late on Sunday night. Billy is drunk on the pack of beers she stole from her dad’s store, lying in bed once more.

She listens intently as her dad checks the kitchen, finds it cleaned and the laundry done, then heads to bed.

Then, in the bedroom next door, she can hear Susan checking in on her daughter. Max half-heartedly mutters responses to her questions sleepily: where did you go, what did you eat for dinner, you didn’t fall off your skateboard did you, oh, and was Billy mean? Billy bites down on her lower lip but can’t help but listen out for Susan finally kissing Max goodnight and going to bed.

 

*

 

On Monday morning, Billy dabs makeup over her now green-and-purple bruises and fixes her hair perfectly.

It’s fine, she tells herself. She hasn’t heard from anyone since the party and it’s not like Tommy’s going to admit to any of that shit anyway.

She skips breakfast – her dad is sitting just beyond her bedroom door drinking his morning coffee and the thought of the comments he might make at her black eye… she doesn’t trust her daubed-on foundation to save her from them.

So instead she pushes out of her room and straight through the front door, does her best to sound respectful as she mutters a good morning on her way.

Max, the fucker, takes her sweet time, and Billy revs the Camaro in frustration, slamming her head back into the headrest. She can almost feel her dad turn and scowl at her from the kitchen table.

Finally, the kid falls out of the door with her skateboard and her satchel clutched in each hand, red hair flying everywhere.

“I’m here jeez,” she gripes, hefting her board into the car before her.

Sat in the driver’s seat, Max has a better view of Billy’s face than she’s had all weekend, and she stalls halfway in her seat.

“Close the fucking door,” Billy snaps, in danger of being overheard – if the kitchen window is open then she’s already in deep shit, and it’s not even eight o’clock.

Max slams the door shut and stares at her face. Billy guns the engine violently, watching in satisfaction as Max grips her seat in terror. Still, it’s not enough to shut her up apparently.

“Holy fuck Billy-”

“Put on your goddamn seatbelt shortcake.” Billy spits, turning the corner sharply.

“What the fuck did you do?”

Billy tastes blood. “I’ve got fucking knuckle marks on my face genius, what do you think? Seatbelt. Now.”

Max finally does what she’s told, her concern replaced by a scowl. “That makeup isn’t doing shit.”

“Yeah well, I gave as good as I got.”

“Wait you hit Tommy back?”

All of the breath leaves Billy’s body for a moment, and the car jumps forward as her foot presses the accelerator in shock. “What. The fuck.” She pushes through gritted teeth. “Are you talking about Max?”

In the passenger seat, Max is perfectly rigid. “N-nothing Billy slow down.”

“Who the _fuck_ told you anything about Tommy Max? Who the fuck- Max if you don’t tell me right fucking _now_ -”

“N-no one Billy. Stevie just said-”

Billy wants to crash her car into the ditch. She can see it now, the satisfying crunch of glass, the blood trickling down her face. Down Max’s face. The image makes her sick to her stomach but still, the urge is there.

“Oh yeah? What have you and Harrington been saying about me Max? What have-”

“Nothing,” Max shouts, fear making her pale, making her beg “nothing Billy really I just- Stevie asked why I needed picking up and I just- I mentioned you got into a fight and she said- Billy please slow down please-”

There it is. It takes a lot for Max to cry, these days. Billy slams on the break as they turn off the ass-end-of-nowhere road to their house and onto the road into Hawkins, takes a moment to glance at Max and watches as a tear drips down her cheek with satisfaction. The kid is shaking in the passenger seat.

“You don’t fucking say another word about that to anyone. Not your little pals, not Hargrove – no one. Or I’ll know about it.” Billy spits, hardly aware of the threats she’s making. 

Gradually, her satisfaction at Max’s trembling dissipates into disgust. What the fuck is she doing getting off on scaring the shit out of a twelve year old?

Finally, the reach the school. As soon as the car stops Max goes to run out, but Billy reaches without thought to grab her arm.

The kid managed to get the door open before she was grabbed. Billy can tell she’s gripping her harder than she should. 

Out of the passenger door, Billy can see someone heading in their direction – brown pony-tail pouncing. Harrington doing the morning run for her new charity case, the lispy kid.

“You listen to me Max.” She hisses as her step-sister tries to pull free. “Any guy ever hits you, he’s not your fucking boyfriend, he’s not your fucking anything. He’s a fucking punching bag you hear me? You give as good as you fucking get.”

“Hey, Hargrove!” Someone calls, definitely Harrington, getting closer as she hurries across the carpark.

Billy lets Max go and she wrenches away, looking completely freaked out, her arm definitely bruised.

“I’m not like you Billy. People don’t _want_ to hit me.” She hisses, and Billy can read her face so easily - can read the hatred, but also, in the bitten lip, that she wants to take those words back. She’s right though.

“Oh I’m sure someone does,” Billy can’t help but respond, and watches Max’s face crumple as she rushes from the car.

Stevie Harrington catches her in her arms, and Billy doesn’t wait to find out what she ran over to say. She lunges across and closes the passenger door, then reverses with a screech of tires.

She can hear Harrington calling something after her as she speeds away, and knows that Max is giving her one of her signature middle fingers.

Good for them.

Billy needs another cigarette.


	2. Real Housewife Material

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie gets a headache

Billy realizes about five steps into school that she should have interpreted that shit with Max as a sign, because Stevie isn’t the only one who knows about Tommy, apparently. She should have skipped school for the day. Or the year.

But instead she’s there, adding fire to the flames with her foul attitude and patchy makeup. And Hawkins High is a goddamn conflagration of rumors about what went down at the party on Friday night.

At first, Billy thinks it must be some other drama. After all, she was counting on the fact that Tommy wouldn’t show his face, let alone admit that said face (which must be pretty fucked up, Billy only ever lands a solid punch) was the work of a girl with half his body weight.

So she ignores how people seem more wary of her than usual, how Carol and her gang glare at her in homeroom. How she’s getting more odd looks than terrified ones.

But someone told someone else something, because by third period, people have stopped giving her looks and started giving her shit – and no one ever dares to give Billy shit.

Only the jocks and the girls on her basketball team have the nerve to actually call her out, but the second bitch that makes a comment about “Tommy not appreciating you being a psycho stalker, huh Hargrove?” gets used to dent one of the school lockers.

It becomes pretty clear who’s to blame after that. Apparently, Carol spread around that Billy’s a nut job that got hysterical with Tommy when he tried to break up with her, and poor little Tommy had to defend himself from her jilted rage.

Which, naturally, everyone believes. Generally, Billy is proud of the fear she’s managed to inspire after only two months of school. And at least the rumor gives her credit for whatever state Tommy will be in when he finally shows up at school.

What Billy isn’t okay with is the thought that she could actually lose her shit over a spotty seventeen year old guy in a letter jacket who can’t control his temper – _that_ makes Billy want to put her fist through a wall. Yeah fucking right.

The principle politely asks her to skip the rest of the school day or risk suspension.

Which only pisses Billy off more because after two months he’s already bargaining with her: go be a fuck up away from school property because we both know you don’t want me to call your dad.

Billy thinks about punching his smug face.

Instead, she takes his advice and heads off to get good and drunk, trying not to hate herself for it.

 

*

 

It’s just another shitty day in Hawkins for Stephanie Harrington.

Okay so it’s not a monster-hunting kid-gone-missing kind of day, but it’s pretty bad.

She can’t even feel good about Hargrove finally falling from grace, because when she gets to her locker between periods, she finds a note wedged in the door: _PICK UP MAX_.

Stevie grinds her teeth together and curses.

“Hey Stevie.” She looks up to find Nancy coming over. “So about tonight. Do you think you can make it after you pick up Dustin?”

“Uh, what time was the movie again? I’m actually picking up Max too, so I might be too late.”

Nancy looks pleading. “Jonathan wanted to see the new horror flick, remember? The first ten minutes are just trailers anyway – you could probably still make it. I know Jonathan wants you to come.”

Which is a load of crap. Stevie feels the note crumple in her fist. Stevie and Jonathan are much better now she’s stopped breaking his cameras, but they’re not exactly close. And Stevie isn’t crazy about the idea of being the third wheel to another not-quite-a-date-night. She can almost feel them both shifting awkwardly next to her in the cinema already

“Um. Well I don’t know how long I’m going to be. So I’ll let you know?” Shit. Stevie hates it when Nancy looks like that.

“Oh, okay. Well don’t forget we’ve got that dinner with Barb’s parents tomorrow.” Nancy’s eyes are full-on begging now. Stevie is powerless against them.

“Shit, Nance. It’s just – I’ve got to write my statement for practice and the basketball finals-”

“You promised, Stevie.” And of course, Stevie caves instantly. Because Nancy has taken hold of her sleeve and that look in her eyes is devastating. She hasn’t been sleeping again. And Stevie thinks maybe a horror movie is about the worst thing she could go and see right now. Goddamn today sucks.

“Yeah yeah okay. Just. You know – try not to think about it. I’ll try to make the movie.”

Stevie slams her locker shut and gets to class before Nance can convince her to hand over her soul while she’s at it.

 

*

 

Max is a good kid – tough too. So when Stevie rocks up to pick up Dustin and tells her to get in the car as well, she gets a smile and a polite thank you for the trouble.

But Max looks absolutely miserable when the smile drops away – so much so that Dustin lets her ride shotgun, and graciously suggests Stevie drop her home first.

They’re halfway to the Hargrove’s place when Stevie glances over and sees that Max has rolled up the sleeves of her sweater. Purple finger marks are clearly visible around her wrist. “Fuck, Max, is that-?”

And of course, Max just rolls down her sleeves and won’t talk about it. Which – Stevie’s day just got so much worse because now she’s going to have go find Billy Hargrove and give her a piece of her mind.

This certainty triples when the get to Max’s house and, sure enough, no one is home. Stevie parks in the driveway but tells the kids to stay put, despite Max’s insistence that her mother will be home soon. Fuck that, she’s not leaving Max there alone. She’s better than Billy.

“Okay, so I’m going to leave a note on the door for your mum Max, and then I’m going to take you to Dustin’s, sound good?”

Max seems to like that idea better than waiting around to see if her mum or a dead drunk Billy are the first person through the door. Stevie grabs for her school bag, scribbles the note, then jumps back in the car and sticks it in reverse.

 

*

 

She finds Billy outside the second off-license she looks at, sprawled over a low wall in the carpark in full view of any passing police cars.

“What d’you want Barbie?”

Stevie grimaces as she heads over. “You’re the one with the blonde hair, Hargrove, not me.” She approaches the other girl warily. Hargrove looks wrecked, her cheeks red with drink and the October chill.

Billy lets her cigarette smoke out in a lazy plume, smirking. “But you’re just so goddamn perfect and pretty, doll. Real house-wife material.” Her voice is hoarse.

“Fuck off Billy.” Hargrove is even more exhausting than Nancy. Stevie immediately feels like a bitch for thinking it. At least Nance has a good reason to be exhausting. Billy…

“Still getting your kicks trailing after Wheeler and Byers?”

“Still getting yours scaring little girls?” Billy immediately tenses, taking an angry swig of her liquor.

“You know, everyone on the team thinks you’ve got a thing for Byers. Thinks you’re pathetic.”

Stevie can’t stop an angry blush from heating her face. “Everyone on the team thinks _you’re_ a loose fucking canon. And I don’t have a thing for Byers,” she can’t help but add.

“Oh, I know doll. I’d lose all respect for you if you did – heard a lot about Byers. And stalkers don’t do it for you, right? But little doe-eyed chicks like Wheeler? Such a shame she prefers the peeping toms. Guess the best you can hope for is a three-way-”

Stevie lunges, but Billy is surprisingly fast, considering she’s also dead drunk. She ducks Stevie’s punch with a triumphant grin.

“What the actual fuck Billy?” Stevie half expects to be punched unconscious at any moment. “No honestly shut up I’ve got something to say.”

Billy’s eyes are glittering – she’s enjoying herself. It only makes Stevie angrier. “You can’t fucking treat Max like that okay? It’s across the line. And leaving her at home while you go off and get pissed?”

“Shit,” Stevie’s tirade is interrupted by Billy, whose eyes seem to be trying, and failing, to focus on something over her shoulder.

Stevie turns to find Chief Hopper dragging himself from his truck, looking dog-tired and grumpy as usual.

“Evening officer.” Billy’s cheeky grin is wholly inappropriate, but the Chief isn’t exactly the blushing type.

Stevie rolls her eyes and sighs in relief, expecting Hopper to take Hargrove off her hands. No such luck.

Instead, Hopper turns to her and tells them to get home with a pointed “and you’re driving, Stevie. Get her sober before I have to fill in any more goddamn paperwork.” Then he heads into the store without a backwards glance.

“Fucking hypocrite.” Billy mutters, then slings herself precariously from the wall and heads for Stevie’s car. Stevie is left with her mouth open, a headache building behind her eyes.

Well. At least she’s definitely going to miss the horror flick.

 

*

 

Susan is home when they pull up to the Hargrove’s. She must have read Stevie’s not and gone to collect Max from Dustin’s house, because when Stevie drags Billy through the front door, she sees the kid peer out at them from her bedroom down the hall.

As soon as they’re over the threshold Billy shoves Stevie away, careening into the kitchen table instead, then makes for her bedroom. Stevie winces when the slamming door seems to rattle the entire house.

“You must be Stephanie.” Susan says, standing by the kitchen looking supremely awkward. “Max is always talking about you. Thank you for looking out for her.”

Stevie shoves her hands in her pockets and looks at the time on the wall. The movie is definitely over. Nance and Jonathan are probably eating at the diner by now, staring dolefully at one another.

And here is Stevie in the Hargrove’s kitchen, standing in silence, waiting for Susan to ask her about Billy, while the girl in question swears and wrenches open draws in her room drunkenly.

When Susan continues to say nothing, wiping the same dinner plate repeatedly, Stevie offers: “Billy didn’t get suspended or anything. Just told she better skip class for the day and cool down.”

“Oh.” Susan looks like she has absolutely no response for that information. She makes no move to check on Billy.

It’s not like Stevie can really blame her – she doesn’t really want to be around drunk Billy either. But surely someone should get her a glass of water, check that she’s not going to choke on drunken vomit…

Stevie has the urge to apologise on Hargrove’s behalf, though she can say definitively that it is in no way her fault. “There’s a lot going on at school,” she tries instead. “I think her boyfriend-”

Something in Susan’s face makes the words stick in her throat. She stalls, wanting to leave but hyper-aware of the sound of Billy fumbling with her record player. The sudden squeal of an angry guitar makes both her and Susan flinch.

“Uh, so I’m just going to-”

Susan only gives her a painful-looking smile, finally puts down the plate and leaves the kitchen.

Sighing, Stevie glances behind her at the front door, then moves to Billy’s bedroom instead and gives the door three hard knocks.

When there is no response, Stevie barges her way in, hoping Billy is too drunk to start a fight.

“Hey,” she shouts above the record, staring at Billy who has given up halfway through pulling off her top and getting into bed simultaneously.

Stevie can’t stress enough how tedious drunk people are when you’re sober as hell.

She turns off the record player abruptly, then turns to find that Billy has located her limbs and crawled under her bedcovers, kicking her clothes to the floor.

It’s relatively easy for Stevie to cover her blush with a look of profound annoyance.

“I’m getting you a glass of water, and you’re going to sleep Hargrove. And if you’re sick as a dog tomorrow morning you only have yourself to blame.”

Billy only groans and buries herself deeper under the covers.

Stevie gets the glass of water, feeling supremely awkward opening cupboards in a relative stranger’s house without permission, but Susan is nowhere to be found. Stevie really just wants to leave.

When she returns, she finds Billy’s tanned arm peeking out from the covers, holding a cigarette over the ashtray on her bedroom table. The image is almost comical.

Feeling bold, Stevie plucks the cigarette from her fingers, puts it out in the ashtray and places the glass of water down with a pointed _thunk_.

“Right, I’m leaving. Don’t be a bitch to Max.”

She’s surprised when Billy just grunts instead of rising from the bed to grab her. She’s definitely pushing her luck here.

Before Stevie heads out she stops by Max’s room. The kid is sitting on her bed with her walkie talkie out.

“You gonna be alright kid?” Christ she’s really started sounding like a sixteen year old female Hopper recently.

Max shrugs. “My mum’s here. Somewhere.”

Yeah Stevie’s going to take her word on that.

“’Kay. Give ‘em hell, Max Power.”

Max looks like she has more than a few questions. Stevie is struggling not to think of a few herself. 

She reminds herself that she doesn’t care and finally leaves the Hargrove’s house for her car. She has a college letter to write and a dinner with two grieving parents tomorrow night, plus plenty of nightmares about dark shapes in the woods to keep her up.

Stevie’s headache decides to stick around until the next morning. At least Billy Hargrove isn’t at school the next day.


	3. Billy Hargrove Sucks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed a few things around, including the title and some tiny details! Forcing myself not to do rewrites into oblivion though! Stevie and Billy awkward sort of friendship - enjoy!

Billy has had a sore head for three days straight, but there’s no way in hell that she’s missing basketball practice because of Tommy, or Carol, or her teammates who used to grudgingly respect her, but now don’t bother to meet her gaze in the halls.

Jesse and Vince glared at her just as hard as Carol during homeroom. Tim, Simon and the rest of the defenders avoided her in the cafeteria, and even Stevie Harrington was too busy following Nancy Wheeler around to glare at her by the lockers between classes.

Only since coming to Hawkins has Billy been surrounded by so many girls with boys’ names. Apparently it’s a _thing_ for the Hawkins High girls basketball team to use these nicknames, like they’re all twelve and pretending they weren’t born with tits and a lifetime’s supply of daddy issues.

Billy even had the name ready to go. She fit right in. Until four weeks into the year, of course.

She always got respect on the court, even when she played dirty (which was all the time).

No more. When Billy shoulders her way into the locker room after school, Vince’s laughter cuts off and the other girls turn away, the air growing tense. As Billy changes, Tim slams her locker shut pointedly and all of the girls make for the gym together, until it’s just her and Harrington left. And even she didn’t get this treatment, though in the month that Billy’s been in Hawkins it’s always been clear that Stevie had only stayed part of the team because she was too good to cut.

When Billy gets onto the court, Coach Williams’ face is the worst thing she’s seen all day. Williams takes one look at her healing bruise, her lip curling in disappointment, and benches her immediately, “until you can keep your problems off my court and grow a pair, Hargrove.” 

Christ, thinks Billy, hating herself for how much she wants Williams to like her, how crushed she is by coach’s scowl. I bet she came up with the fucking nicknames too.

Billy thinks she takes this pretty gracefully, considering that her problems are the bruise on her cheek, and the one on her side (she got off pretty easily really, with the promise of more for later – but for now her dad is busy playing house), the dirty looks from her teammates, and the four-day hangover that started on Monday.

The only place Billy _can_ bring her problems is the court.

But instead, she does drills until her stomach aches and her muscles burn. She stays until the rest of the team wraps up, until it’s just her doing reps, and the coach packing up, and Stephanie Harrington missing baskets on center court, in between glaring in Billy’s direction.

“You’re too tense,” Billy calls to her when she lines up for another futile attempt. Stevie throws her another glare and Billy grins – unlike everyone else, Harrington can’t seem to ignore her for very long.

“You girls better turn off the lights before you leave, or you’ll be paying the school’s bill.” Coach Williams reminds them as she heads for the door. “In the locker room too.”

From center court, Stevie pipes up an affirmative, the kiss-ass.

Billy watches with satisfaction as she misses again.

 

*

 

They both hang around waiting for the other to leave first, then get fed up and hit the showers at the same time. Billy hangs back, aware of the bruise at her side which she shields with a towel until Stevie has chosen a shower cubicle and wrenches across the cheap shower curtain.

Billy is halfway through soaking her coiffed mullet when she remembers blearily that, in her hangover, she forgot to bring any products with her. If she lets her hair dry like this, she’ll be the talk of the school for more than one reason, and Billy is completely justifiably vain about her hair.

She listens to the sounds of Stevie washing three cubicles down.

“Hey,” she clears her throat awkwardly and calls over the water. “Give me your conditioner.”

There is a moment of silence, then an echoey: “What?” Stevie really can’t seem to ignore her at all. Billy grins.

“Just give me a bit of your fucking product, Harrington, it’s not that hard.”

Billy hears a sigh of annoyance, then the sound of the shower curtain being drawn back.

Stevie pushes the bottle through Billy’s shower curtain, letting in a draft of cold air that makes her shiver, suddenly self-conscious. Billy blinks at the outstretched hand and the flash of naked leg revealed beyond the curtain.

“Take a bit and give it straight back.”

“Okay jeez I’m not going to steal it am I.”

“I need to use it too just get a move on.” Billy wonders if Stevie’s cheeks are as red as her own feel.

“This better not fuck up my curls.” She grunts and takes a generous amount before pushing it back through the curtain for Stevie to snatch. “Always knew you were a prude Harrington but-”

“Please just shut the fuck up and let me shower Billy.”

Yeah okay maybe Stevie has a point there.

Thankfully, Harrington finishes first and leaves Billy to take her time in front of one of the grimy mirrors. She feels sober for the first time all week as she blinks back at her reflection in the stained mirror, and finally like she’s not about to fall to fucking pieces and trash the place. Billy thinks of Harrington’s own impressive brown coif as she puts the finishing touches on her blonde curls.

When she gets back to her locker for her gym bag, there is a note slipped in the door.

MY TURN TO GET MAX.

Billy pockets the note with a grin and goes anywhere but home.

 

*

 

Billy has a sobering weekend.

Her dad has finally gotten around to being really fucking pissed at her for being mostly MIA and constantly drunk that week. Billy is ninety percent sure that Susan must have said something to make it worse – never mind that she’s one hundred percent fucking cognisant of the consequences of telling on Billy – the thing is that Susan is just as terrified of Nick catching her out as she is certain that her husband would never do something like that to her and Max _but sweetheart, you know Billy, you know she doesn’t fucking listen unless…_

In short, Billy has to be out of the house that weekend, because she might not always act like it but she’s not in the business of getting punched in the face twice in one week.

Which is why she is killing time wandering the town alone, trying not to think that a week ago she would have had cheerleader groupies and salivating jocks to keep her company instead, when she spots Harrington trailing after Wheeler and Byers, walking towards the movie theatre. She takes the opportunity to test the theory that Stevie just can’t ignore her.

“Hey Barbie! Cute date!”

The combination of Stevie’s startled expression and Nancy Wheeler’s dirty look make Billy laugh out loud for the first time in weeks.

Stevie mutters something to her friends and then heads across the road after dutifully looking both ways for cars.

“What the fuck do you want Hargrove?” Her mane of brown hair is looking particularly glossy despite the cloudy Autumn day. It frames her scowl nicely.

“Lovely day to be a third wheel.” Billy grins, stamping out her cigarette. Stevie looks even more put-upon.

“Yeah, whatever, at least I’m not Hawkins’ newest loner.”

“Yeah I could do with some company.” Billy admits impulsively, leaning against a meter reader and trying not to look cold in her leather jacket. “So ditch the power couple and come keep me company.”

Stevie blinks. “Are you fucking serious Billy? After I dragged your drunk ass home twice in a week, you think I want to spend any more time with you?”

Billy shrugs. “Why not? It’s gotta be better than the flick showing at the theatre. And I’ll be sober, I promise. No alcohol, just you and Billy Hargrove.” She winks.

“That’s why I’m asking, why in the _hell_ would I want to be alone with Billy Hargrove? Billy Hargrove sucks.”

Billy surprises herself by doubling over and being incapable of speech in response to Stevie’s look of genuine confusion. When she can breathe again, Billy leans in as she replies. “Because _Barbie_ , it beats mooning over your hopeless girl-crush and her new guy while they do _homework_ together or some shit.”

“She’s not-” Stevie seems to realise the futility of correcting Billy and cuts herself off, an odd look on her face.

Christ I’m right aren’t I, Billy thinks with a grin. Hit it out the fucking park with that one.

“Just. I just.” Stevie grimaces, glancing back at her friends. “Wait here a minute.” She leaves Billy against the meter as she crosses the road back to her friends. Billy blinks when they don’t immediately make for the theatre.

Stevie returns two minutes later, her friends turning uncertainly away, with Nancy giving her worried looks over her shoulder. Billy cannot believe her luck.

Stevie looks like she’s made a terrible mistake and has no idea how to back out now that she’s made it. “Just, Fucking. Where are we going Billy?”

You’re in love with Nancy Wheeler, doll? Talk about a teen tragedy.

For once, Billy keeps her thoughts to herself. “You got your car?” She asks instead.

 

*

 

“I thought you’d take me to a bar.” Stevie looks around nervously. She’d hesitated when Billy had turned off the main road onto a dirt track surrounded by trees. Finally they had stopped on a small hill with some sort of radio tower.

Billy lights her cigarette and settles on the cold grass in the small clearing, looking out on the main road far below. She laughs softly. “I said no drinking.” She leans back and watches the sun setting. “But there are beers in the trunk, if you want one. I’ll pass.”

Stevie decides to get a beer to stop herself thinking about what the hell she’s doing here, then settles awkwardly next to Billy, wrapping her arms around her knees. 

The sun is setting, the forest growing dark and forbidding around them, a few faint street lights leading back to Hawkins far below. She doesn’t ask Billy if it’s safe to be out here. She knows better than Hargrove what lurks in the trees.

They sit in silence for a long time as the sun goes down, each with a cigarette, Stevie with her beer can. When she finishes it the darkness begins to make her restless, the sounds of the forest crawling under her skin, until she breaks the silence at last.

“Do bars even let you in round here?”

Billy’s cigarette is neon red in the fading light. Her face is half in shadow. Stevie itches to get up and put her headlights on.

“You’d be surprised. Every creeper in Hawkins knows my dad and that I’m still in school – doesn’t stop them from trying to get me drunk. At least in California fuckers like that had plausible deniability.” Billy laughs easily but Stevie screws up her face in disgust. “Don’t tell me you don’t like an older man doll? Yeah I guess not. Now nerdy chicks like _Wheeler_ -“

Stevie groans as Billy giggles again. “Why are you so fucking obsessed with Nance anyway Hargrove? Jesus you never shut up about her.”

“You used to own this school, Stevie. I heard all about it from Tim and Simon – you were queen bitch. And then what happened? Arrested for starting a punch up in broad daylight, and all over Miss goody-too-shoes. Dethroned within a day. Makes a girl curious.” They both let that comment hang in the air, thinking of the most recent fall from grace at Hawkins High.

Eventually, Billy clears her throat and speaks again, words that make Stevie grit her teeth and tense all over. 

“When you said you dragged me home _twice_ , Barbie…”

Stevie swallows hard. “Yeah.” She risks a glance at Billy, who is frowning down at her cigarette.

“Thing is, I fucking drove myself home that night. I remember.” It comes out more violently than Billy intends. Stevie flinches.

“Yeah, right,” she mutters back. “I couldn’t pry your hands of the steering wheel. And seeing as though I was almost as drunk as you, it didn’t feel work arguing about. But you would’ve been sat in the driveway of Tommy’s house all night if I hadn’t’ve told you to start the car. Or you’d’ve gone back inside and killed Tommy at his own fucking party, right?”

Nobody speaks for a long time. Stevie stays braced for a punch – she really shouldn’t have come.

Finally, Billy flicks her cigarette into the grace and stands, looking down at Stevie, who half expects to be pulled up by the collar of her jacket and shaken.

Instead: “Thanks Stevie.”

Billy doesn’t sound particularly grateful, but the words are spoken, all the same. Stevie has no idea how to respond, so she crushes her beer can and huffs a laugh instead, getting to her feet.

“Fuck you Billy.” Hargrove shoots her a grin. It looks painful. “It’s fucking freezing. ‘M going home. Practice tomorrow.”

“See you on the court, pretty-girl.”

Stevie swallows and heads to her car, wondering if she’s even going to be able to find her way home from here. When she flicks her headlights on, they illuminate the lonely figure of Billy leaning against the hood of her Camaro, lighting another cigarette.

It takes Stevie a moment to reverse her car and turn to descend down the dirt track, leaving Billy to the darkness and the woods.


End file.
